


An Ace in the Hole

by B_Kilroy



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Ace Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Kilroy/pseuds/B_Kilroy
Summary: Ace had never given Furiosa any reason to worry.  He had never done anything wrong except, perhaps, being too well-meaning.  Thousands of days passed with the relationship between them evolving from mentor-and-student to War Boy-and-War Girl to lieutenant-and-Imperator, and Furiosa never forgot anything Ace had done to help her.Eight days before Furiosa means to turn off the Last Road in an attempt to go back to the Green Place, she asks Ace to come with her.  He does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was created with [this madmaxkinkmeme prompt](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/1730.html?thread=1198530) in mind, but I also want to offer a nod to the wonderful minds behind [Ace's timeloop](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4764635/chapters/10929794).
> 
> It's probably a working title until I find something less heavy-handed.

_Today's the day,_ was the first thought Ace registered when he woke in the cold dark dormitory. _Today's the run._

He was surrounded by his crew - well, not _his_ crew. They were the crew of Imperator Furiosa, but they were his crew in the same sense that his family was once his. The crew were as close to a family as he'd ever get again. Every single of one of them were appreciated for their own reasons. Enthusiasm, humor, skill, whatever it was that came out in their day-to-day existence. Under Furiosa's watchful eye, the boys lived long enough to develop beyond the mindless battle fodder that Immortan Joe bred and became people with actual personality.

It was what Ace loved about the boys. Sometimes, they were human enough to nearly forget that he was serving under a warlord in a post-apocalyptic wasteland whose only wish was for them to serve Him and die when their time was up. They reminded him of better times, when the moment was right. The lot of them would salute Immortan Joe, and the lot of them would do their best to serve Him, but when they were out on the road, or in the mess hall, or in their bunks, they felt something like family. Brothers. Furiosa was their mother in a sense, though Ace had once known her as a sister, and was definitely old enough to be her father.

The dynamic was almost there. It was different than the slave-and-master relationship that many Imperators had with their boys. Furiosa and the War Rig crew were damn close to civility and lucidity, and she managed to instill worth in them. _Valhalla can wait, we have a delivery to make_ was often the point she tried to get across, and so many of them held off on the foolhardy stunts common among War Boys. As time went on, they honed their skills and learned their place, and they became a well-oiled machine that no one could compare to, and became closer than most dared to be.

But if everything went right today, the crew would be dead. 

\- - -

A pup had summoned him up to the Boss's chambers eight days ago. It wasn't common, but it wasn't out of place, either. Sometimes she'd ask for an opinion, maybe another set of hands to help with something she trusts no one else with. These meetings were more common in the early days, but dried out over time. Ace figured she had built the skills that made what he had to offer obsolete, but that didn't upset him. If anything, he should be happy and proud that she had – and after all, a War Boy should never be able to outdo their Imperators in anything.

It took some time to finally reach her room. The pup announced their arrival to her and offered a clumsy V8 before skittering away. When Ace peeked into the room, he expected to see her at her desk with some papers or her arm or something else she was tinkering with. There was always an obvious need for his presence visible, but when he saw her standing in the middle of the chamber with her arms by her side, he knew he wasn't there for anything ordinary. Something was going on. 

“Ace,” Furiosa greeted him shortly. Distantly.

“Boss,” he replied in kind.

“Lock the door.”

It was an innocent enough command; she desired privacy. He followed the order, closing and barring the door behind him. Ace expected some change of demeanor once he turned around, but she still had that same indecipherable look on her face. She didn't move from the center of the room. He could tell that she was trying to conjure the ability to do or say _something_ , but whatever it was never quite came.

“You okay, boss?” was the simple question he asked, and it barely registered with Furiosa. She acknowledged it with a noise, but made nothing more of it. An air of nervous energy built around her, working its way out through her fidgeting hands. It was uncomfortable for Ace to witness; she looked so unsure of herself, something he hadn't seen in a long time, and it was never a good sign. "If you need help, you know I'll do my best to help, if you want it." It was the same offer he always put on the table, and he meant it every time. Unfortunately, this time it only served to unease Furiosa even more, and he was at a loss. 

After a good long moment of silence and a mighty sigh, Furiosa ran her flesh hand over her head and spoke. "None of what I tell you leaves this room."

"Agreed."

" _Nothing._ "

"I swear it." Why would it have any reason to?

His answer was apparently satisfactory. Furiosa allowed herself to move from the position she had been standing in, opting to pace instead of being still. Her face kept the same look on it, as thought she still wasn't sure what to say. Ace didn't try to press her for her words. It would only be more trouble than help, especially if she was in a foul mood. The boss didn't have a mean streak, but there were times when she reminded people why her name was Furiosa, and he didn't intend for this to be one of them.

There was a pause before she spoke. "You were with the War Party that took me from my home."

"Yes." Ace had crew on the leading Imperator's truck, travelling East to a settlement that had been found and observed by a scout. _Nothing but women!_ the War Boy revealed to Immortan Joe, and that was all he needed to demand a second scouting expedition, and then a full-on raid. Ace was part of that raid, accompanied by ten-or-so cars and six-or-so bikes. The sole purpose of many was to confuse, harass, and distract the population from getting in the way of why they were there: to steal away someone to make Immortan Joe's wife.

"You were the only War Boy to comfort me."

"Well, you could hardly call it comfort." The War Boys retreated away from the oasis once they achieved their goal. They had taken her and her mother, separate vehicles for both of them only by circumstance. She was young, roundabout 6000 days, and she wasn't taking it well at all. Who would? Ace didn't blame her. Still, he knew she needed to be calmed down before someone else tried to do it themselves – or punish her. _You see that car over there? Your mom's in that car, she's doing just fine._ Her mother would die three days later. _You're gonna be alright. It's gonna be okay._ It honestly wouldn't be. _Please, you gotta calm down!_ She lashed out and scratched him in the face. Ace gave up and stayed on the small platform welded onto the side of the truck, standing still in contrast with the other boys that were hooting and hollering and celebrating their successful raid. A hand on his face felt blood, and it was promptly wiped on his canvas pants. “Tried to calm you down, was all. Hardly helped.”

“Well, you were the only one who hadn't screamed in my face about it.”

“True.”

"And when I was cast down from my position as wife, you took me under your wing and kept me from getting lost in the madness when you didn't need to.”

“True.” Joe had made a ceremony of casting her down. He revealed that she was barren - unable to carry children. The sole purpose of a Wife was to provide him an heir, and she failed. Still, there was something that endeared Furiosa to Joe. Whatever that something was, it was enough to thrust her into the ranks of the War Boys instead of down into the Wretched. (Ace wasn't sure which would be a worse fate.) All she was given were the black pants and black boots, and was allowed to keep her white linen chest bindings for "modesty." Ace remembered her, and somehow, she remembered him.

Ace watched over her because it was the right thing to do. Many War Boys were twice her size and strength, and weren't afraid to cause trouble. She could fend for herself most times, but it was almost too easy for her to fall beneath the cracks and get lost in it all. He could only ever offer a hand up; it was up to her to take it. Sometimes she took it, sometimes she didn't. Sometimes she challenged him to the Pits because she _knew_ she was being coddled, and sometimes she won. There were times when either one of them got called out and pulled into the pits, often at odds with other War Boys because she was a woman, a has-been Wife, and Ace was apparently trying to grab Joe's leftovers. They always won those fights.

Their kind of relationship wasn't exactly the best, though. Hell, it wasn't even the most intricate or intimate relationsip in the Citadel. War Boys made life partners, whether it be platonic or sexual. Lancers and drivers slept together. Pups and crews huddled in piles for warmth. Not them, though. Ace had never been young enough or wanting enough to do so, and Furiosa only ever did it with the youngest pups that had just been taken away from their breeder mothers. It never crossed his mind, and it was never his intention, but since he was a man and she was a woman, the boys made up their own minds.

"I'm not groomin' ya, boss, I'm not tryin' to trade paint if that's what you're about to ask," Ace decided to prematurely defend himself. Grooming was something evil men did to younger women - girls - who didn't know better. Teached them wrong and did them wrong for the sake of their own pleasure. It was what Immortan Joe tried to do to the breeders, though most of them were wise enough to shake it off. It was what he did to the boys, and they all fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Ace couldn't, wouldn't do anything like that. It wasn't right.

Furiosa's expression changed, still indecipherable, but softer now. More relaxed. "That's not what I wanted to ask." Well, that was _one_ possibility down. She paused again, and Ace had to stop himself from asking any more of her. She was the boss, not him. She asked the questions, not him. He had learned a long time ago to keep quiet, but he had grown comfortable with speaking up around her. Now, he wasn't so sure. 

After a pause, she seemed to settle on what to say. It wasn't as grand she wanted it to be, but it satisfactory enough to ask it of Ace. “Why did you do all of it?”

“What do you mean, _why did I do all of it_?” 

“You didn't need to do what you did, you didn't need to try to comfort me, you didn't need to help me, fight me, fight _my fights_ for me, so why did you do any of it?” Her tone grew accusatory. The pacing stopped, and she looked straight on at him.

“Well, what the fuck is a friend?” Ace countered. He knew War Boys that had that kind of relationship with each other, so why was his with hers so different? Furiosa was a woman, yes, and she was now an Imperator, yes, but so much of it had gone on before she had her status. What Ace had with her now was a working relationship, hardly what they had before. What was the fuss?

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” She came closer to him.

Truthfully, he wasn't, because it wasn't something to hide; it was something that didn't need to be said. It wasn't her business, even as an Imperator. Ace minded his own and did his work, and he'd do it regardless of the knowledge that she wanted from him. She didn't need to know.

“No, I-” 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Closer. 

Did he want to tell her? No. Did he need to tell her? No, but she was revving up like she was about to tear the words right out of his throat. Ace could only admit to himself that there _was_ a reason that he helped her, but she didn't need it hanging over her head, yet she pushed for it anyways. She didn't need to know.

“What-” 

“Look at my rank, Ace, are you lying to me?” The black band of grease across her forehead was hard to ignore. 

_Why is she pulling rank?_ he thought, and then - _She knows. She knows there's something to know, and she wants to know, and there's nothing I can do to keep it away if she keeps keeping on-_

“ _No,_ boss, I-”

“I can read you like a fucking _wordburger_ -”

“It's FUCKED, okay?!” he let out, practically shouting over Furiosa. Ace recoiled from instinct - no one ever shouted over an Imperator - but he continued. "You wanna know? You wanna know what I think? Fine. 

"It's all fucked. Look at the world, what the fuck's wrong with it? What's _right_ with it? Look at me, look at _you_! - a couple of underlings for a fucking warlord and _what year is it?_ We sent people to the _MOON_ and not fifty years later are we killing each other for food and water. Do you think I wanted to grow up to be a _War Boy_? Do you think I wanted to serve a _feudal warlord_ when I got outta the army? 

“I'm out there _starving_ , dried to nothing but leather and then the Citadel comes along with offers of food and water and shelter if I serve under Joe? _Join or die?_ Guess what I picked! I wanted to _live!,_ shame on me. Fucking painted white and black and all of a sudden Joe's talking about _chrome_ and _Valhalla_ and I'm surrounded by nothing but _nuts_ that scream at the very words! I get put on a fucking raid to go fetch Joe someone to make his Wife, and all of a sudden I see-” 

Ace blew out air like he'd been punched. He stepped away from the confrontation and bowed over, hands on knees to regain his breath. There was wet on his face, streaks in his paint. If Furiosa wouldn't shred him, the boys would. Crying was soft. 

“I had a sister. Here one day, gone the next, no idea where she went. And I see you and I see your mother and I can't help but think, _is this what happened to her_? It's all fucked. And I'm not doing this because I think you're her or I think I'm making up for it, but I _know_ you didn't want to be here, and I won't dare ask you now.”

Ace had spilled his guts, for better or for worse. _None of what I tell you leaves this room,_ she had said, and it wasn't missed on him that he hadn't been granted that luxury. He could be dismissed right now and snatched up in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Furiosa could shred him herself. She could do anything, make him do anything, and there was no stopping her because she held all the cards.

It was Furiosa's turn to pull away, turning to look through the small barred window that offered a view of the outside world. The view looked out towards the East. "I didn't want to bust your balls, Ace, but... hmph. I don't even know what I planned on hearing." She paused, rubbing her flesh hand against the metal bars. "But I do like what I heard."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

More silence. "What about Joe's wives?"

"What do you mean, what about... oh." He could see where this was going.

"They're someone's sisters. Someone's daughters. Mothers. Stolen away from their homes to serve as breeding stock, just like me." She turned away from the window to look at him. It was obvious that there were gears turning in his head, but a direct answer was what she wanted. "Do you think what Joe's doing is okay?"

"N- _no,_ but-"

"But what?"

"How's it to be helped, boss? He's got 'em all locked up in a Vault, and once they're out, what's there to do? Hard to ignore a pretty face and any sort of car jetting out of the garages. You'd need a real heist to pull off anything like an escape for them." Ace couldn't imagine a successful escape. They had to get past the Vault door, through the guards, past Joe's own chambers, then down through hundreds of feet of tunnels and over a bridge into the garage, then get a wheel and a car and somehow do it without breaking the car itself on the drop down, and all without anyone noticing. It was impossible - or so it seemed.

Ace's words, once again, seemed to be something Furiosa wanted to hear. "Guess who's been guarding the Vault?" she asked with something like a smile on her face, and Ace lit up in response.

"You actually want to-"

Furiosa nodded. "I actually want to. And with the War Rig, it's the best chance I'll have to take them away. And I want you to come with us." 

"You're kidding." Ace almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Furiosa was planning an escape - a _heist_ \- a betrayal of the highest order, barring attacking the Immortan herself. She even wanted to take the War Rig, the Citadel's lifeline between the Bullet Farm and Gas Town. It was an insane task to undertake and even talk about, but here she was - here _they_ were, and the conversation was getting serious.

Furiosa shook her head. "You've done right by me, now it's time to do right by you. It's all I can do." She had managed to blossom under his guidance. She learned how to drive a car instead of a bike, how to throw a lance and _where_ to throw it, got taught most of her skills by him. Now that she was an Imperator, it was hard to give back. Favoritism was something she did her best to avoid, outside claiming her crew as her favorites. She didn't need any more shit sent her way. During the escape, of course, none of that mattered.

"Well, you know once we're out there, we'll need supplies to actually eat and drink, right?"

"You remember where I was taken from?"

"Green as shit."

"Go in deep enough and there's nothing to see _but_ green. We had roots, leafy greens, fruits, vegetables, grains, a lake. We even had some animals. We can get there in a long day's run, won't need to worry about food."

"And what's keeping anyone from following us on that long day's run?"

"You remember a couple of nights ago when I went out to _investigate something_ out East?" Ace nodded. "Went to the mountains, went to the Rock Riders at the pass. Made an offer so they'd blow a ridge behind us, block the passage."

It sounded like a solid plan. The War Rig was a beast, twin-engined, thousand-gallon tank carrier with enough storage for what had to be months of food, no matter how perishable. It was - oh, _fuck,_ it was huge, it was _huge_ and it was _loud_. There would be no hiding it. "Wait, how the fuck are we going to use the War Rig without them knowing about it?"

Furiosa's mouth went dry. Her eyes skittered around the room, looking for something besides Ace to focus on. It was a fact she had confronted on her own, and she knew revealing the fact to him wouldn't be nearly as easy. "We're doing this in eight days on the day of the trade run."

Ace's own mood soured. Did that mean what he thought it meant? "On the trade run? _The_ trade run _with_ the crew? The boys, what about the boys?"

"They were born into the culture, Ace, they don't know any other way." Ace was quick to interrupt with words meant to pause her, but she continued. "There's no convincing each and every one of them that this is the right thing to do, it would be pushing against thousands of days of... of _this_. You're the only one old enough to be from Before, and that's how I knew I could at least _see_ if... ugh, this is so shitty." There was no good way to say it at all. There was no way to say she had to get rid of the boys while giving them as much credit as they deserved. They were _her_ boys, but they were Immortan Joe's boys above all else, and she could take no risks.

Ace understood. That didn't mean he liked it. Despite the boys' dedication to Immortan Joe, they had grown into something like a family. He knew them all by name, knew their positions, knew their strengths and weaknesses. They worked together, whether it be on the trade convoy or the lances or the grenades, they lived together, died together, slept together, and it built a brotherhood. And he would have to throw it all away. "So how are you gonna get the boys of... of our backs?"

"Word among the Old Bones is that there's going to be a sand storm due East in time for the trade run." 

" _You want to_ -"

"What am I supposed to _do_? Drag them up here one by one to test them? What if one of them doesn't understand, tries to bolt, tries to tell someone? What if I stop them, do I call the next one up and he thinks he's gonna die, too? Do I ask them all at once? There's too much risk, Ace. Too much to go wrong. There's nothing as... efficient. To get rid of them."

An awful knot formed in Ace's stomach, bad enough to make him double over and steady his hands on his knees. "I'm gonna puke." For a long while he felt like he would; he could taste the bile in the back of his throat, but in the end none came up. Stomach bedded back down, Ace stood straight again and wiped a hand across his face. "Is there no other way?"

"I don't know when I'll get an opportunity like this again. Could be a hundred days, could be ten-thousand." Furiosa truly didn't know. She had found the best circumstances to undertake the task in, and she wasn't about to let them pass her by. "In eight days, I'm doing it. If you come with me, I need your help or I need you out of the way. If you don't want to do this, stay in your bunk. You're coughing, your lumps hurt, say anything and I'll let you off the hook. But it's going to happen."

Ace nodded with understanding, unable to make a decision. The only thing he knew for sure was that he would _not_ try to stop her. Furiosa had a damn good reason for doing what she planned to, and they both knew the Citadel wasn't what it was cracked up to be - not that it pretended to be, anyway. There was no reason to stop her, but if he didn't go, then there was still no reason to stay. His crew as he knew it would never be the same. "If I'm there, I'm there with you, boss."

Furiosa took the answer for what it was worth. She wouldn't push him for anything definite after giving him two choices to sit on. It wasn't easy to digest at all, especially with only seven days left to come to peace with his decision. After allowing him to touch up his paint, she dismissed him, and wondered if he'd join them on their flight to the Green Place.

\- - -

For the next seven days, Ace lived a lie. He worked, he ate, drank, talked, laughed, but it was all for show. The cars he worked under went unrepaired, the lances were only disassembled and reassembled, and what usual camaraderie he had with the boys fell beyond what he had the will to do. The food and water got stuck in his throat, blamed on his lumps when someone asked about it. There was no questioning that; many of the boys already had their own, and if they didn't, they knew they'd get them in time.

There was no saying goodbye. He couldn't risk anyone getting some sort of idea about what was going on, let alone discover the plot. Ace pretended everything was right in the world, even up to the eve of the trade run. As usual, he went to bed without a word, even though he wanted to go around to every single one of them and wish them good bye and good luck. It would be meaningless, of course. Once they turned off the Last Road, there was no more considering them allies. They would be liabilities. Enemies. Dead.

There was no hint of sun yet from the sky-lights in the dormitory, only the familiar pale shade of blue that came with the moon. It could be five hours or five minutes before morning came, and that only made it worse. Ace let out a ragged sigh and hoped it was the former. Hell, he wished it was seven days ago. If it was his choice, the morning reveille would never come, and he could stay there forever.

But it came, and he got to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Ace went on autopilot. He pissed, shit, ate, drank, all without a thought in his mind. He didn't dare let his mind stew in what was supposed to happen, and so he simply blanked out. It was easy to do. He had gone through the same routine for thousands of days. With any luck, it would be the last time.

He wouldn't miss it, he allowed himself the simple declaration. There was no missing the dark damp dormitory with the cold stone bed, no missing the fighting (whether it be out on the road or in the Pits), no missing the perpetuation of Joe's God complex. There was hardly anything to miss besides the steady (but incredibly meager) rations and the companionship he found in the War Boys that he surrounded himself with. Of course, the War Boys he surrounded himself with were on the rig crew, and in due time, they would be dead. They would be gone either way, if everything went right. 

One by one, the boys found their way to the garage. _Nine-o-clock sharp_ was the time they were due to be on the desert floor, ready for Immortan Joe's blessing. There were no clocks, of course. That technology was only reserved for the upper echelon among the Triumvirate so they could organize meetings and messages and, yes, trade runs. Still, they were sensitive to the time, having done it many times before. Ace wondered if he'd feel the nine-o-clock call once they were gone.

The convoy guard were being lowered down by the chains, bikers piled into the cars for the sake of “safety”. The War Rig would come down alongside them on the elevator with Furiosa as its sole companion, and then its cargo with the crew. With little time to spare (as always), Ace did the same thing he always did - check the weapons cache on the tanker, tighten the nozzles to the water and milk, then check his own holds on the truck. No need to go slipping off. 

He was testing the drivers' side platform when Furiosa came up beside him to get in. It almost made him jump out of his skin, but he did well enough to suppress the moment. Furiosa paid no mind to it, but offered a quick word: "Act like you don't know what I'm doing." As much as it hurt him to do so, Ace had to play the role of having no idea what they were doing, where they were going, and what would happen. He confirmed her message with a short nod, and then: 

“Have you got the Wives?” he asked of her in the smallest voice he could conjure. The question earned him an even smaller nod in response, and with no need to ask any more, he dismounted. _We're doing it._ Ace found himself fully drawn back in to the situation. She had the Wives, and there was no alternative. Staying the road at the last second was no longer a possibility. It was now or never, where _never_ meant being shredded as slowly as possible. 

A heavy sigh propelled him back to the tanker, where he waited with the other boys to haul it onto the elevator. The War Rig was on its way down now. The crew's chatter was lost on him as he occupied himself with going through the steps that were required of him in his mind. Get the winch going, get the tanker onto the platform, let it sink, hook on the fuel pod, hook it on to the truck, and start the show. Easy enough, right?

The platform came back up to the opening, slamming into place as it hit the stops. _Here we go._ "Alright, lads, let's get it on!" Twin winches were hooked onto the frame to move it forward, hand-cranked by a set of treadmill rats. It was a relatively new installation, put in some thousands of days ago after the last rig crew pushed it themselves, but failed to stop it before it rolled off the platform. (Ace was thankful they were never able to repeat that mistake.) The boys came with the tanker onto the platform after detaching the winches. Once everyone and everything was cleared, the winchman pulled the lever, and they were on their way down. 

There was never any getting used to the sight of the Wretched. He didn't know how many times he had looked down upon them, but there was no settling his stomach about them. Their numbers grew over the years into the thousands that it was now, and it seemed like there would only ever be more. How were there even so many with so little food? So little water? Ace had a pretty good idea, and it didn't involve rationing.

Ace could see Furiosa at the head of the convoy, overseeing their positioning. The thunderpoon crew headed the group, followed by Elvis and the two bikes. Apparently pleased, she made her way back to the War Rig to prepare herself for the journey. At least she had a passive role in the pre-travel ceremony; Ace wasn't sure if he could play his part.

It wasn't long before the counter-weights passed them by, indicating they were just about to hit the ground. _Showtime._ The War Boys ran to the rear as the platform grew closer to the desert floor, hopping off to connect the fuel pod as Loudmouth began the cadence.

“We are War Boys!” he called down from the top of the tanker.

“ _WAR BOYS!_ ” was the reponse of the crew.

“Kami-krazy War Boys!”

“ _WAR BOYS!_ ”

“Fuku-shima kami-krazy War Boys!”

“ _Hooked on!_ ” Ace shouted as the pod hitched onto the tanker, sending the other boys scattering to new positions. The hydraulics were next to be attached, plugged in below the skull of... _where the fuck do they get all these skulls from?_ He continued with the itinerary. “Today we're headin' to Gas Town!”

“ _GAS TOWN!_ ” 

“Today we're hauling _Aqua-_ Cola!” _You son of a bitch, it's just water,_ Ace thought to himself as he spat out the words. _Yeah, you're gonna pull your levers and_ oh, _it'll be such a treat, won't it, you big boy?_

“ _AQUA-COLA!_ ” A plume of dust kicked up from the War Rig's exhaust as Furiosa got the vehicle going. He held back a breath, wondering if it kicked up into the hold where the girls were stowed away. If they started coughing...

“Today we're hauling _produce!_ ”

“ _PRODUCE!_ ”

“And today, we're hauling Mother's Milk!” 

“ _MOTHER'S MILK!”_ Furiosa set the truck in reverse to engage the tanker.

With everything on board and ready to go, the War Boys made their way onto the vehicle, finding their stations in the car shells. The convoy was ready to go – all they needed was a speech. The Wretched knew what was up. They knew the deal. Someone always started it, and it always catched on. "Joe! Joe! Immortan Joe!" The chant rippled through the crowd, banging together their pots and pans to make as much noise as they could. Gas Town could probably hear all the racket.

Ace watched as the spotlight mirrors focused light onto and into the Maw, signalling the very near start of Joe's speech. The chants grew faster and louder in response until a series of heads came up between the teeth - "REV IT UP, FOR THE IMMORTAN JOE!" yelled one of the Imperators - and the Wretched promptly erupted with an ambivalent tone, but quickly found their silence again once the man appeared above them.

A quiet feedback loop pierced through the speakers implanted on the rock face before he began. "Once again, we send off my War Rig to bring back guzzoline from Gas Town, and bullets from the Bullet Farm. Once again, I salute my Imperator, Furiosa, and I salute my half-life War Boys, who will ride with me eternal on the highways of Valhalla." 

Together, the boys on the armada bowed their heads and held their inter-laced fingers high in the V8 salute. He knew the gesture would spread through the garage and everywhere that one of them was looking on from, as the routine _"Vee-eight!"_ chant came out among them. Ace did his best to join them; he couldn't break character just yet.

"I am your redeemer!" Joe continued. "It is by my hand you will rise from the ashes of this world!" _But it is your hand that smothers us in the same..._ Another resounding cheer came from the crowd, but the Immortan swiftly muted them with a wave of his arms. 

Ace's mouth tightened as much as it could with his lumps tugging down at his mouth. The grand finale. The Wretched were waddling closer to the three titanic pipes jutting out of the mountain-side in expectation of what was to come. Some of the younger War Boys behind him looked as though they could do the same. Ace didn't blame them. Very few of the boys believed that water addiction was a problem, and most of the rest lied to make things a bit better for themselves. Ace had just rolled with the punches, and knew what happened at the Citadel soon wouldn't matter to him.

But, _oh,_ how that sweet water looked and how the Wretched - the _people_ cheered and held their bowls high to catch it and tilted their heads to drink it out of the air. It was how things should be. It was how things should have been, how they always should be. _Look at them,_ Ace was tempted to say, _this is what we could be._ But instead-

The water stopped flowing. The crowd erupted in a frenzy, fighting to get their fill before it stopped flowing and seeped into the dirty earth. They pushed, shoved, fought for those last few drops, and it was easy to tell that not even an eighth of the people got any, and there was no telling when they'd see anymore. _This is what they are._ Joe was quick to see this; the microphone popped as he snagged it out of his son's hand. "Do not, my friends, become addicted to water. It will take hold of you, and you will resent its absence!" _So now it's water?_

Furiosa blew the massive horn on the War Rig, signalling the convoy to get underway. They began their journey with no problem; the Wretched cleared off of the packed dirt path to allow them to pass. Ace knew that once they were gone, they'd try to swarm the elevator. They always swarmed the elevator. The guardsmen would be there, able to take on the whole lot and then some – wasn't hard to fight skin and bones. He ignored whatever would happen behind him. The road ahead was much more important.

A knot formed in his stomach and his throat tightened with each mile they covered. _She's gonna turn,_ he thought at every single path that led East. Each time Ace braced himself for the turn, and each time he berated himself for trying to anticipate it. If the War Boys were focusing on him, they could see it, and there would be explaining to do. With any luck, it was ignored, or blown off at worst.

He'd turn around to avoid seeing the avenues diverging from the Last Road, but it would mean taking a good damn look at the crew, and he wasn't sure if he could handle even that. The world didn't even offer a distraction to keep his thoughts away from them. Ace knew that at some point he'd need to confront his feelings about the crew and the situation at large, and by all means he should find peace about it as soon as possible. Doing it now would make the inevitable defection that much easier, but damn, if it wasn't hard.

So he stood there, stoic at the head of the tanker, watching the edge of the horizon from his perch. The Eastern skies showed no signs of a sand storm. Gas Town's signal mirror still relayed messages back to the Citadel, and the convoy was damn near in the middle between them. They should turn. They should _be turning._ Every single second they stayed on the last paved path in the Wasteland flooded his mind with thoughts of _is this a dry run? did she lie? am I fucked?_ that only made him tighten his grip on the car shell. 

His grip ended up coming in handy when, a thousand yards out from Gas Town's closest oil derricks, the War Rig turned off the Last Road and headed East.

It wasn't hard to act surprised. The move hadn't been telegraphed at all; in fact, Morsov's driver still went on until he banged on its roof and got it turned around. A quick look back at the Citadel showed him what he wanted to see - the place had been left far behind - and with that, he advanced onto the truck. _Act like you don't know what I'm doing,_ Furiosa had told him, and it was time to do just that.

Ace clambered down onto the driver's side perch to face her. She looked ready. "Boss, we're not going to Gas Town? Bullet Farm?"

She offered a short glance, but turned back to the road. "We're heading East," was her reply before shifting up another gear, wasting no time with formalities.

_It's on._ With a nod, he pulled his head out of the window. "I'll pass it down the line." Ace moved to return to the tanker, but the boys were already ducking in close to find out what was going on. "New orders! Thunder up, thunder up! This is not a supply run!" He pumped his arm to mimic the readying of weapons and allowed them to find their positions. 

From behind them, the rest of the convoy caught up. Ace waved a bike forward, and was ready to get Elvis ahead as well. "Go, go!" he motioned at the vehicle, but Morsov wasn't having it.

"Ace!"

"Go!" Ace commanded once more, motioning for them to take point ahead of the War Rig.

"What's going on?"

"We're heading East!" _Well, that's the truth isn't it?_

"Why?"

"I don't know!" the lie came easily enough out of his mouth. "That's the order." _Ah,_ the universal command to shut up and stop asking questions. To pursue anything beyond that was to question the reasoning of any and all that had a higher rank, and in the Citadel, that shit didn't fly. Morsov was smart enough to ask nothing else of him or the boss, and assumed his position in the front of the convoy as Ace got back onto the tanker.

They drove in a tense silence, continuing into the badlands that they knew was Buzzard territory. Ace was somewhat thankful that, at least, his own nerves wouldn't need to be hidden. The sudden change of plans made a sense of unease ripple through the crew, and it wasn't without merit. They had no idea what was happening, what _could_ happen, and why. Ace, on the other hand, had a very full idea.

It wasn't long before there was a new development. "Hey! Heads up! Heads up!" The rear guard caught the attention of the others, pointing out yellow and red clouds of smoke in the Northwestern sky - flares. They were the last thing he wanted to see - very likely the last thing Furiosa wanted to see as well. Ace watched as they put up two, three, _four_ of either color. Calls for full armadas.

He got back onto the truck, knocking on the sunroof until Furiosa opened it. "Boss! We got vehicles from the Citadel, they're firing flares. They want reinforcements from Gas Town and the Bullet Farm. What is this? Backup? Decoy?" _Is this what you expected?_ he wanted to ask. _Have you accounted for a full response?_ Ace wasn't sure if he'd ever find the time to get an answer.

Furiosa maintained the same level of detachment that she had demonstrated throughout the morning, and Ace hoped that for him, it was only a facade. She shifted the War Rig up another gear and kept her eyes on the road before them. "It's a detour."


	3. Chapter 3

_They're going to catch us._ That's all that would go through his head. _They're going to catch us, and then they're going to kill us._ There's no lying to themselves - they can't outpace the Citadel's pursuit vehicles, and there is no knowing how or when the full forces of Gas Town and the Bullet Farm would intercept them. Ace knows that this hadn't been what she was planning for, but what's she going to do? Call a mulligan and try again some other time? Hell no. Their fate had been sealed the moment the Wives were loaded onto the tanker, and it was their duty to see it through. 

The convoy's entering the Badlands, notorious for the Buzzards that call it their home. Everyone has their eyes out for them, and if they don't, then they were horribly trained. It was too easy for the Buzzards to attack them; their vehicles had been built for the terrain, perfect for skirmishes that knocked out bikes and shot at lancers, all done fast enough so they could duck away before they could be targeted. If the boys could keep an eye on them, then that was half the battle won. The other half, of course, would be much, much, harder to achieve.

Furiosa is the first to spot them, and he can't blame her in her hyper-alert state. "Eyes right!" Sure enough, he can spot the plume of dust that the vehicle kicks up. Knowing the Buzzard is there makes it easier to pick up the sound of the whining engine, and he does his best to keep a sharp ear out for more. For now, Ace takes note of where the car disappears over the horizon and turns to address the War Boys behind him.

"Buzzards! Buzzards right, eyes on, eyes on!"

"Buzzards right, eyes on!"

"Eyes on!" 

The command echoes down the line to the end of the convoy as the boys prepare themselves for combat. More vehicles appear on the right, including one with a hydraulic sawblade on its roof. Others come from their left flank, waiting for the right moment to sweep in and attack. It doesn't look good at all to Ace, who knows that the standard operation is to call for reinforcements. Of course, things are different now. There is no turning back or stalling for someone to rescue them. The entirety of Immortan Joe's army wouldn't be saving them for the sake of saving them, but the crew doesn't know that. Not yet.

He comes down from the roof of the War Rig and plants himself on the stoop outside of the driver's door. It's easy for him to read Furiosa - she's thinking the same thing he is. "Should we turn it round and run 'em into our back up?" The question is only a formality to keep up the appearance that at least _he_ isn't in on it. He knows the answer will be no, but the boys don't. The crew has the utmost confidence in their own abilities, but very few are ashamed to retreat and accept reinforcements, especially when they are already on the horizon.

The words stop in Furiosa's throat as she counts one, two, three, four... Buzzards, going onto those that have yet to peek over the crest of the dunes. She knows that they'd lose some War Boys in the skirmish, but they need to lose the right amount - enough to keep them safe until the sandstorm. "No, we're good. We fang it!" 

The War Rig's massive horn lets out a massive burst of air that can be heard for miles. It certainly reaches the War Boys in the back who hoop and holler as they get ready to defend the Rig. "Thunder up! Here we go!" Thunder sticks, flamers, grenades - the boys are ready to dig into the entire arsenal to take out the Buzzards. Still, their enemies keep their distance on either side and follow them down the road.

The convoy is entering a plains, coming down from an elevated section of the Badlands. It will grant them more visibility - hell, _everyone_ will have it - but he isn't sure who'd get the advantage. In all hopefulness it will be them and the boys. The Buzzards don't have much in the manner of weapons, but their damn rusted spikes will wreak havoc on any unarmored man they touch.

None of them expect it when Elvis catches chains ahead of the convoy and wrecks into a spike pit. The War Rig turns hard right to swivel around the pit and the rest follows behind them. Elvis spins over itself once before impaling itself and bucking Morsov, who disappears somewhere behind the Rig. Ace has to strain to hold himself in place, hooking an arm into the open window for purchase. When they're back on the straightaway, he can see something in Furiosa's face, but says nothing. It's her first casualty of the day.

There's a clamor on top of the tanker. Ace can hear them cheer - someone collected Morsov. He supposes he's glad they did - he's a good kid. Without Elvis, he's still crippled, though. Ace can't see him on top of the tanker, and figures he's somewhere else in the convoy.

Behind them, the Buzzards catch up. Furiosa can see them off the right side, catching one motorcycle easily. Another War Boy throws a thunderstick but it's nothing but a glancing blow, and the buggy still moves up. Someone uses a flag to jump off the tanker and reach out for the passenger - "Morsov!" he calls out to him, and he's collected before the Buzzard takes out the second bike and its rider. Furiosa wonders if that's too many gone too early.

The Buzzard lets something out from the undercarriage - a buzzsaw, of course it is, and he tries to cut out the tanker's tires. She's glad that they had the right mind to put some protection on them; the blade will either dull or shear off before it can do any harm. The boys up top continue to pelt it with lances, but it isn't until the harpooner aligns itself in front of the buggy and fires that it finally goes down. The gunner is clearly glad for himself as he turns to his comrades and cheers for war. Furiosa frowns in the mirror, wishing someone less zealous was in his spot.

Ace can see them first - a buggy escorting another vehicle with an even _bigger_ blade. It's quick to come alongside the tanker and start eating away at the metal, though he figures that it has the cabin in mind. He turns to Furiosa, and it's instinctual - they've done it before. "Grenades!" She collects herself before snagging the explosive crossbow from its holster. The door opens and Ace moves with it to aim alongside her with his own grenade launcher. 

They both hit their mark and destroy the blade runner; its escort crashes into the wreckage and falls back. He can hear the crew cheer for the carnage, but the lot of them shut up when the great Buzzard excavator breaks through the metal and dust with another buggy trailing behind, competing at great speed to catch up with the War Rig. The boys in the back try to hold it off with their flamers, but Ace knows that won't work for long. 

It shouldn't be as big of a shock when he begins to see the Citadel armada appear on the horizon, but it is. They're growing close in such a short time, and it makes him worry that they're going to catch up and do what they're out here to do. The survivalist in him tells him that he could play dummy - Furiosa planned it all and the War Boys knew nothing of it. There'd be no reason for her to call him out. The human in him grimaces at the prospect of leaving her high and dry, at the simple idea that she'd be shredded for all of them to see. Ace looks ahead for the dust storm that she said there'd be, and he sees nothing.

As the Excavator comes up their left flank, the last Buzzard buggy stays on their rear. He can hear the boys hit it with lances, but from the sound of it, none of them are doing any damage. There's another distinct sound, the _whoosh_ of compressed air as Morsov fires a harpoon at the vehicle, and a _crunch_ as the roof of it tears off. Ace watches as he rises from the nest to throw a lance into the open compartment, and then Morsov collapses. He can see the darts sticking out of him.

His heart jumps, in all honesty, when he sees the body collapse sideways into a limp pile. Morsov was... he was more together than most of the rest. If War Boys were one-dimensional, he was two-dimensional, and Ace had no doubt he'd be a good man if he wasn't in Joe's hands, nor the Buzzards. Part of him wonders if he'd come if they had asked him, but that's too wishful thinking.

Despite the fact that he should have died, Morsov rises. There's something in his hand - _chrome_ \- and he raises the container to paint himself. "Morsov!" Ace can't help but call the others' attention to him. It's the boy's intention, in the few next seconds, to die. 

"Witness me!" Morsov shouts above the engines and around the dart that's stuck in the middle of his throat. The War Boys are quick to reassure him, answering with calls of _"Witness!"_ as he rises from the nest on top of the guzz pod, lances in hand, and jumps down onto the Buzzards. 

The explosion is large, larger still thanks to the incoming lancer from the armada. He's definitely not surprised it's Slit - _"Mediocre, Morsov! Mediocre!"_ \- but he is surprised to see someone strapped onto the perch at the front of the pursuit vehicle. It has to be a blood bag. High-octane, has to be. _The good stuff,_ Organic would say. Ace has pity for the man, and knows he'd wish for nothing but to be a hundred miles away from here. He doesn't deserve any of what's going to happen out here. 

Ace's attention turns back to the Excavator as it throttles alongside the War Rig. The faster vehicles of the armada are catching up, and must be saving the Rig for last. A mounted thunderpoon crosses over to the left to target the Buzzard vehicle, but they're too slow, and it's too fast, and they fall to the Excavator.

Slit and his driver are off to the left now, and he does his best to lance through the layers of metal, but it's too much even for him. The Excavator comes up again to the bumper, but the driver's smart enough to give his car a boost of nitro to escape the fate of the others. His next movie is insane; he pivots the car around so he's gunning it in reverse, but he fails to see the benefit. It's all showboating, he figures - Slit has to climb over the car to take his shots anyways.

The Excavator's tools finally begin to move - the bucket claw extends and tries to clamp down on the top of the tanker, and the dual buzzsaw moves out and aims to shred its way into the cabin. That's what it finally takes to get the War Boys moving again, and they start throwing all they have at it, grenades and lances and flames once more, but the spikes and metal grant it too much protection. They're not getting through that before the blades get through Furiosa.

He looks frantically for a vulnerability, a hole in the armor, and he sees it near the base of the rotating plate. "Hydraulics!" Ace does his best to point it out to the boys, they're quick to go after the tubes that power the Excavator's limbs. A well-placed lance knocks both the bucket and the buzzsaws out of commission, but the boys are still going after it - one's even on the arm clipped onto the car shell protecting the front left of the tanker. Ahead of them, the blades retract, cutting the decorations off of Slit's car and nearly decapitating the blood-bag - would have been the best way to go - and suddenly the Buzzard tank explodes, ripping off the shell and taking a War Boy with it as it tumbles off the road. Ace is too shocked to witness him.

The road is clear. With the Buzzards finally defeated, the War Boys are able to relax, but their eyes are quick to look at the path ahead of them. Ace doesn't even know when it appeared, but it's too big too fast for it to have even made sense. It's the dust storm Furiosa had been depending on, stretching from one end of the horizon to the other, and it's already tall enough that it threatens to collapse over them in a tidal wave of sand. He's frozen in place at the head of the tanker, and he can hear the boys behind him come together and do the same. 

He's going to need to get into the cabin soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow brought back from the fucking dead
> 
> also sorry for switching to present tense, it's something i can't stop doing

**Author's Note:**

> I never want to write this much dialogue again


End file.
